Regeneration
by DizzyTech
Summary: Matthew has changed... he was once outgoing, energetic, and smart. Now he's solemn, cruel... what actually happened to him in the Krimzon Guard? Double oneshot, kinda like a cappuccino. Couldn't finish.
1. Morning Routine

**Regeneration**

**Chapter One: Morning Routine**

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The young elfin boy woke with a start. The smallest shock of eco had been sent across his body, much like the tiniest electrocution. Nothing new, of course, but it startled the body every single time. He touched the display screen on his left arm, confirming it with a cough. The boy sat up and turned, getting off of his bed and exiting the small alley created by his bed and another.

He was completely alone, and he liked it that way. A glance at the electronic plate embedded on his wrist revealed the time: 3:21 AM. Good. He began to walk down the open isle between bunked beds. Tiny neon emergency lights – to be turned at a moment's notice to help in waking the men – lit his way.

The man had routinely looked at the clock on his wrist every morning, and had come to treat it as a commodity, something that was neither different nor new. It had been there as long as he could remember. However, it gave him a quick pause for thought this early morning. He hadn't remembered how he received it (not the time, but the wrist implant), it was just there. That feeling was a common emotion to him lately.

He ignored it, and continued walking towards the unlit bathroom. As he walked in, he hit a touch sensitive switch. Soft, but painfully bright, fluorescent lights flickered on above his head. He shut and locked the door behind him as before anybody would even see it. The first thing he saw was his own image.

The man was frowning apprehensively. This facial expression was oft plastered upon his face, albeit hidden under a thick layer of carbon alloy. He continued to observe himself for the first time in a few months. The boy had grown muscular over time, and he admired his body in the reflective glass. His facial features were chiseled smoothly into his face, and his pointed, elfin ears were angled ever so slightly backwards and down due to his helmet.

His hair, usually thick and scraggly as he would recall, was shortly cut and copper-colored. Short stubble of beard was emerging under his chin. The skin on his chest was a pale white. He obviously knew he wasn't getting much sun, here in the city. For that matter, nobody was. He remembered hearing something about the water supply being supplemented with vitamins, but he didn't believe it was true.

Smears of dirt were all up and down his torso. Only the Precursors knew what had soaked onto his feet. His legs looked nearly green; days ago he had been assigned to a job out in some forsaken swamp.

The man looked toward a row of showers to his right. He knew what day it was, and supposed he had to get clean. He walked over towards the bathing receptacles. His feet tapped solemnly with each step as he got in the shower. A small light immediately shone into his eye, scanning for his identification. A robotic voice, in the tone of a woman, began to speak, just as it did in hundreds of places across the city, as a steady stream of water begin to spit out onto his head.

"Welcome, Krimzon ID Number 7-4-1-5-6-8-2. Now adjusting water temperature for bodily requirements. You will automatically be cleaned. Do not attempt to modify the controls un…"

The man tapped the electronic screen in the shower to stop the standard protocol message. The voice started again.

"Greetings, Matthew. Now starting news feed I8 as selected by local administrator ID 7-0-6. Would you like to continue?"

The man, named Matt, automatically responded to the question. "Yes." His own voice surprised him; he hadn't heard it for months except through the modulator of his armor. It had become deep naturally and through likeness to the emulated tone of the Krimzon Guard. It still held softness to it, though, but was unrecognizable due to the almost gravelly tone added to it recently.

A man's voice, real this time, began to speak a pre-recorded feed. "Late last night, Baron Praxis released a demand for more Krimzon Guard troops as Metalhead groups move closer to the Dead Town limits…"

The speech dimmed down in Matt's mind as a stream of pure soap landed on his back, with water mixed in to power of the dirt and grime that had attracted over weeks.

It was now Matt's mind began to drift off to the past. He hadn't remembered much about it recently, nor had he thought about it at all for that matter. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember all that much before the Krimzon Guard. Except, of course, that he was alive.

_Two Years Earlier…_

He walked into the small lobby through the front door, as anybody would. He was as confident as he could be. Matt expected some sort of training exercise where he would be yelled at mercilessly until he was noticed for doing something exemplary. Almost exactly like school, except deadly.

He handed an identification card to a slender woman sitting at a square desk. She flipped the card, which read his name and an encoded string of Precursor binary, into a scanner, and watched as information scrolled across a screen. "Good morning, Matthew. You'll be in chamber A7. Right down that hallway and to the left."

Baffled, he asked, "Chamber?" The woman refused to answer much else.

Everything in the lobby was red, or a close variant like garnet. It was nearly blinding, but he supposed they had to get some sort of message across. The Praxis family symbol – excuse me, the official Haven City insignia – was emblazoned throughout the room.

Matt paused for a moment. He was now somewhat suspicious of what was going to happen, but took it all in stride and began to walk in the door. Some vague representation of prescience seemed to attack him, telling his whole conscious and subconscious that this was a bad idea.

It was metallic inside, entirely chrome. Two men stood on a platform next to a chair. One man was armored in standard Guard attire; the other was plainly dressed in a white dress suit.

"Ah, Matthew, we've been anticipating for your arrival."

Matt took the bait and answered dryly, "I didn't have much choice."

The yet-unnamed man's brow furrowed momentarily in anger, but his face quickly softened and he laughed a fake laugh. His voice had a slight accent to it that Matt couldn't quite identify. It seemed to be a Northern Sea accent, from recordings in his school. At least, he wasn't born a Havenite. "Quite right, then. We have seen you have much… talent, my boy."

Matt knew what he was talking about. The city monitored everything for exemplary traits: His mother said they use them to make better warriors; his father, on the other hand, believed they squashed them.

The man began to smile warmly. "Sit down, Matthew, let's have a chat."

Matt sat down apprehensively in the plush chair and crossed his legs, looking awkwardly as the guard standing motionless next to him. He saw nothing through the visor.

"So, it appears you have been drafted into the Krimzon Guard. What do you think?"

"I'll repeat: I didn't have much choice," Matt snarled.

The man smugly chuckled to himself, although his eyes oozed acid. "You see, my boy, we have great plans in store for you and many others. People like you will be the saviors of this city, and all the people in it."

"Why do you say that,_ sir_?" Matt added the word sir on the end with a confrontational tone.

"Your mind has such raw energy, my boy. Energy that is wasted on the feeble thoughts of this city. You have the mind of the leader, the soul of a thinker, the brains of an intelligent young man, and the body of an athlete. All the same traits the great Mar had as he created this city. And that is why the Baron is interested in you. He wants you, not just for the Krimzon Guard, but for the sake of the city."

The guard inched closer to the back of the chair. The creepy man pulled out a thin canister. The plastic casing of it looked thick and unbreakable. Inside was sealed a goop, deep amethyst in color. Eco, Matthew undeniably recognized.

"You see, Matt, we don't follow with training anymore. Takes too much time for the need we have for guards. We have a bit of a faster way."

With that he slid the canister into a panel on the side of his chair. A screen lit up to the side. Precursor text scrolled across its interface. A bead of sweat swerved its way down Matt's face.

"Erm… I think I want to leave now." Matt began to stand. The guard instantly took action, pushing him back down into the chair with surprising force. He felt cold metal in the seat of his pants.

Matt shouted, "No, please, wait!" He was sweating buckers.

The man ignored him. "And with that, let the training begin."

A switch was flicked on the site of the chair, and beams of the Dark Eco surged throughout his body. His vision immediately became blurry, and his sense of touch fell out altogether. This was good, because the millisecond he did have feeling was horrible. He screamed in an agony he no longer felt. For a slight moment, his vision focused, allowing him to see the contents of the screen's Precursor text. It read, "Copying profile 741."

The world began to swim again. He was panting from screaming so loudly. Both the guard and the mysterious man looked down upon him. The man said through Matt's intermittent hearing a single phrase. Two seconds later, the guard would knock him out with a painful electric shock.

"Welcome to the Krimzon Guard, Matthew."


	2. Time to Go

**Regeneration**

**Chapter Two: Time to Go**

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The warm stream of air continued to blow unendingly, pushing the last beads of water off of Matt's now-clean back. A robotic voice announced the obvious, as always: "Bathing process complete. Apply clothing for Class C, and dress in standard armor."

Matthew padded his way across the large bathroom, and looked at himself once again in the mirror. He now looked relatively normal, even replete with the bleak, lifeless expression most of the city's citizens wore for the majority of their time. A hiss sounded as a package of standard clothing was released from a station to his left. It was basic stuff, made to fit him and wrapped in plastic: boxers, socks, and a paper-thin undershirt. Matt picked up the package off the metallic counter, and immediately ripped the low quality wrapper off and began to unravel its contents. Matt immediately began to slip them on. He knew why the clothes were so thin, as he was mostly going to be placed under his thick armor.

Now clothed, he picked up his rank old clothes and the plastic and stuffed them into a small trash chute. He had barely reached his arm out when a small plume of smoke escaped the top of the hole, and he looked in at the incinerated remains of his garbage.

At last, Matt unlocked the door and stepped out of the restroom, hitting the light switch with his finger before letting the door shut on its own. All of the other nineteen men in the room were still asleep. He walked across the other side of the room just in the fashion he had before, where a small metal panel lay near a sealed door. A beam of light scanned his facial profile once again, and repeated the standard protocol welcome message he had heard in the shower.

The machine began reading out a different set of commands.

"Now preparing armor." A green light lit up on the panel next to a label written in Precursor, simply reading "Armor." A muffled clank sounded and a set of pre-attached armor on a pole moved horizontally out of the wall.

"Now preparing food and drink." Matt repeated the command softly to himself as the screen lit with another phrase. A tray came out of a chute to his right, directly onto a table. On the tray was a tiny carton of Yakkow's milk, toast with butter, some exotic fruit, and fried strips of Hip Hog.

The voice then said, "Now preparing any medical dependencies." Matt knew what usually came next: "No medical dependencies needed. Continuing on…" However, today that very same portion of the screen lit up and then continued on, "One medical dosage. Standard check-up faculties." Matt raised an eyebrow momentarily, and then shrugged it off. He didn't care. Another thing the voice said, though, made him shoot up, rigid, and only watch, motionless. "One injection needed." The terminal in the wall snapped upward, revealing a mechanical arm. It sprang slowly Matt felt slightly weak as it was injected into his system, but he suddenly found his strength again. He shuddered for a second in anticipation of some sort of adverse effect, but nothing happened. At least, nothing happened for another couple of moments.

And then it started: everything de-focused, and he immediately became dizzy. He twisted around in circles and fell to the floor. Matt began to writhe in pain, twisting and wriggling around on the floor like a toddler having a tantrum. He held his fingers to his temples. Another slice of pain accompanied his allover miserable pain as his left ear bent nearly sideways, though it did not perturb him. His eyes felt on fire, his veins felt like ice. He tried to scream wretchedly, but he could not even unclench his jaw. He grimaced and huffed and puffed in and out.

And it all stopped, just as it began. With a headache, Matt rose from the floor. He hyperventilated for another minute, and then took deep breaths for another. His pain had completely subsided, but it felt just as vivid in his not-so-old memories. He glanced at the panel, which faded from yellow to green and resumed. "Medical checkup? My ass."

Matt hated Eco treatments.

As the voice continued to ramble on, he began to eat. As he slowly chewed down the medium-sized meal, he tossed the plate and its leftover contents into an incinerator and grabbed his armor from the hanging bar and began to put it on.

He began by pulling on the lower body armor. His legs fit snugly into the metallic suit, and his rear end pulled up into the back of the armor. Matt buckled two straps onto his front to latch the set in place, and then reached toward the floor where he had put down the torso set. It was awkward to put on: he had to slips his arms in their proper sockets, bend his shoulders around until they fit in place, and snap the breastbone piece in shape. He immediately felt safe as the electronic sensors in his arm kicked into action. He flexed his muscles and cracked his knuckles.

All that was left was his helmet. It was semi-opened, and pulled on easily and snapped into place on the shoulder pads. His ears slipped into place in their protective places. His mouth slid in front of the speaker, and a visor slid down over his eyes. On the transparent visor, a heads-up display flickered on. A map in the bottom right-hand corner placed his location inside the military complex. At least he knew that much. A pair of speakers crackled to life, and the same greeting he had heard all morning repeated into his ears.

On the left of the screen, a small, blue window opened. A schedule scrolled across of it. 4:50 AM: Training. He glanced down at his mini-map, where it showed the time. 4:20 AM. He had better get going if he wanted to get to the council complex in time. The suit apparently detected his plan, and a Krimzon Guard icon appeared on his map.

He heard a small alarm clock go off, and the room's lights started to blink on and off.

Yep, it was time for him to go.

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He picked his favorite Hellcat from the public garage, and scanned his identification into the starter. An electronic flow sounded, and a blue beam emitted from the bottom of the Hellcat. He stroked its chrome red body. He held onto a small bar protruding from the side, bent his knees, and leaped into the seat of the Cruiser.

The roof of the garage split apart and he rose up speedily into the air. One thing Matt loved about the Hellcats was that they were not restricted height-wise, like all of the other city's vehicles were. He was far over most of the buildings, although the palace loomed in a shadow over him. He took a breath of seemingly fresh air, and set the cruiser into gear. Off he went.

He arrived at the Krimzon Council center within about twenty minutes. He abandoned the Hellcat on the empty city street in front of the entrance. He was sure a walking guardsman would secure it within minutes; besides, he would be here for a while.

Matt walked in the front door, and past the receptionist clad in red. She looked tired as she waved him on. He walked quickly down to the end of the hallway. The icon on his mini-map came closer and closer. It faded away as he entered the door with a pneumatic hiss of the door.

As he entered the door, a snobby-sounding man greeted him. "Ah, yes, our friend is here."

Matt looked toward the man. He was middle-aged, thin, but muscular as well. His ears were smaller than most, and he wore a thick pair of glasses. Matt scanned the room. A teenage boy was sitting in a comfortable-looking chair, sipping a glass of water. The boy probably had no idea what approached him.

"Bow, Guard, you are in the presence of royalty. My dear friend here, Erik, is the arranged heir to the city's throne. However, that will not be so for quite a few years." The man now changed his attention to the younger boy. "So, for now, my boy, you are joining the Guard. You should be proud. I assure you, the induction process has become quite painless, unless you squirm." He giggled to himself for a moment.

"Now, Erik, I ask you to sit down in the other chair." Erik obediently moved to the significantly more uncomfortable chair. The supervisor replaced the boy's old position in the other chair. "Now, Matthew, I ask you to get the two things on the table across the room."

Matt began walking without hesitation. He passed an electronic screen and an intricate-looking machine in the process.

On a table-like opening in the wall not unlike the station that served him breakfast lay a tray and a canister. On the tray lay an authorization keycard, an inoculation syringe, a pair of tweezers, and an unknown green block about the size of a pill. Next to the tray was a large metallic canister that was transparent around the center.

As Matt walked back, handing a tray to the eldest man, he locked eyes with the boy for a minute. The boy stared for a moment, cocked his head, and questioned, "Matt?" Matt nearly dropped the heavy canister as he recognized the boy whose eyes were boring into his.

Yes, Matt knew Erik. In fact, they had been the best of friends at one time or another. They had first met in their school out in the slums. While everybody else (including his other friends) had always been together and at each other's houses as an effort to have one less mouth to feed, Erik was all but adamant on hiding his home life.

Odd.

The two were pretty much inseparable. Yet, that had all been taken away. Yep… right around the time he lost his family, his academic achievements, and all personal belongings. As a matter of fact, it was the day Matt was forced to… I mean, voluntarily… joined the Krimzon Guard.

The supervisor caught his own mistake. "Guard! Stand behind Erik and keep watch on him." A million questions died in Matt's throat, and he obeyed. The man began to fiddle with the machine. As he set up the devices near him, Matt caught a glimpse of the amethyst canister. On the side was an engraved set of numbers. Translated, it read "7415682". Something struck him as familiar, but he ignored it fearing he would get in more trouble than he already probably was in.

Without any sort of verbal description, the man turned around and walked back to Erik. He bent over and picked something up that Matt couldn't see from the tray. The man turned to his left, flexed his arm, and stabbed Erik in the arm with the syringe. Erik tensed and perked up simultaneously, while Matt grimaced and fought not to hiss.

This is the point, by the way, were Erik began to get worried.

As Matt stood motionless, his supposed acquaintance looked up at him pleadingly. "Please, Matt, don't do this," he whispered. "Silence!" The supervisor commanded.

Suddenly, latches snapped on the chair Erik sat in. Metal cuffs bound his wrists, ankles, pelvis, and forehead to the chair. The boy immediately began to squirm. The man smiled at both Matt and Erik, and held up the canister. "Bottoms up." He stuck the canister in the machine next to him, which immediately sparked into life.

Erik, who was still wriggling, suddenly went limp. Seconds later, the screen to their left kicked on, and the boy sat up rigid. He hissed in pain, and began screaming in agony.

Something seemed familiar about this, but Matt couldn't identify it. However, Matthew had done many training missions before. Something was up. Why? It was at that moment that bizarre twist of fate occurred. Matt fell to the floor, losing control of his limbs. Paralleled, Erik went silent as well.

As Matt was quickly nodding off, he vaguely heard the smarmy man speak the customary greeting: "Welcome to the Krimzon Guard, Erik."


End file.
